


Material Things

by Emerald Embers (emeraldembers)



Category: Good Omens - Gaiman & Pratchett
Genre: Christmas, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-01
Updated: 2010-04-01
Packaged: 2017-10-08 14:23:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/76524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeraldembers/pseuds/Emerald%20Embers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas time; mistletoe and wine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Material Things

Gaudy didn't begin to describe it. It was obscene. Row after row of flashing bulbs, light-up Santas (most with varying numbers of accompanying reindeer), and huge fir trees, even outside (or in) the most Catholic of households. And that didn't cover half of the disgraces England had wrought on itself.

Christmas wasn't due for a fortnight.

"Well, angel? What do you think?"

Aziraphale was beaming. Crowley made him stop before people noticed the halo. Couldn't get rid of the soft glow though, which the demon considered vomit-inducingly adorable. "I believe you've excelled yourself this year."

Well bugger. Trust an angel to spoil clear demonic triumph. "Doesn't it bother you that they're not celebrating the right date? Or thing, half the time?"

"Demon, dearest, they're trying to make each other happy. And most of them at least vaguely know who they're honouring."

"Yeah, but He's not going to be too chuffed with the bitch-fights over Bratz, is he?"

"I suppose not. But they try their best, He always appreciated that. Lovely boy, really." A soft sigh, before he cast Crowley a disapproving look. "Those Bratz were your work, I assume?"

"No." Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. "Don't look at me like that. I admitted to Teletubbies, but Bratz was all human work." The eyebrow raised a little higher. "I would never be involved with something _that_ blatant."

"If you're certain." The eyebrow lowered and Aziraphale pouted slightly, looking out at the streets. He wished he could make it snow, but it really took it out of him every time he pulled off a miracle of that level. Plus, up above _hated_ weather interference. It was 'too obvious'. "It's a pity they're not like this all year."

"Angel, you sound like a bloody bad carol." Aziraphale recovered from his wistful daze.

"Who?"

"Nevermind." Crowley hopped up, pinwheeled his arms for a second to stop him from falling off the wall, and held out a hand to Aziraphale whose legs were stiff from perching. "There's fantastic mulled wine down at the local, and I'm not missing it to listen to your whinging."

Aziraphale took Crowley's hand and stood up, before brushing down his coat. Crowley usually considered the coat to be the most fashionable item the angel owned; however, this was about as much of a compliment as 'most glamourous rat in a sewer'. "That's nice." There was a long, and awkward, pause. "Am I invited?"

Crowley rolled his eyes. "Don't be unpleasant, angel."

Aziraphale smiled.


End file.
